


Drop 'Em Potter, Then Pick 'Em Up

by Elle Gray (LGray)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bickering, Dry Humping, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Lace, Lace Panties, Locker Room, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Quidditch shed, Truth or Dare, Wandless Magic, Wordless Wandless Magic, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 10:07:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17660747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LGray/pseuds/Elle%20Gray
Summary: Draco finds himself in a moment of self-discovery when faced with The Boy Who Is Wearing Lace Panties.This is a continuation of a very teasing drabble called 'Drop 'Em Potter' from tsundanire... I read it and couldn't help myself!You'll need to read the drabble first. Otherwise this isreallyrandomly out of the blue. Plus, the drabble is obviously awesome.





	Drop 'Em Potter, Then Pick 'Em Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsundanire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsundanire/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Drop 'em Potter.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16672927) by [tsundanire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsundanire/pseuds/tsundanire). 



 

Potter, before now, was an idea of a person. A placeholder for someone Draco assumed to be a bit of a twat, really, under all that apparent normalcy. But here, now, with his trousers undone, slack around his hips, and the distinct impression of fear hovering about him… it was as if Draco had been wrong. Potter seemed… human. Attainable. Accessible. Alive and standing here with his dignity at stake and nothing to hold him up but a few fingers of firewhiskey.

 

'That wasn't so hard, was it?' Draco said, and the irony was so thick he could feel it, because, honestly, even he was finding it difficult. Academically, he knew Potter's pants were down, that he was probably wearing see-through lace, that his cock was likely on show. But he couldn't  _ look. _ And it was all too clear that his so-called friend out there, who'd been carrying a 'spare' pair of panties in her purse, knew that. Or knew something at least. Something Draco hadn't known ‘til now. That Potter had the potential to be more than a wank-fantasy. Because if he really didn't like the guy, he'd be able to just casually admire his dick and be done with it. Right?

‘Easy for you to say, you’re still wearing all your own clothes.’

'You'll live, Potter. Pansy's just being a cow. You'd have thought trying to sell you out to Voldemort would've been the end of it but apparently not.' Apparently she wasn't done torturing Draco either.

 

'Hermione's not exactly innocent in all this,' Potter pointed out, staring fixedly over Draco's shoulder, hands still gripping the lowered waistband of his school trousers. 'We'll be having words later,' he muttered.

'I'm assuming the words aren't going to be  _ thank you _ ?'

'Well, I guess that depends on how this goes from here.'

He looked at Draco then, gaze steady even as he offered himself up for judgement. It was too dark to see the unworldly green of his eyes or the long, black eyelashes that framed them. There wasn't even a stripe of brightness in the room to reflect off his glasses, but his gaze was somehow stronger for all its undefined shadow of possibility. Just knowing it was there, pointing at Draco in the small space was enough. Maybe too much, really, considering the feeling in his chest. 

 

'Well I'm not going to  _ hurt _ you,' Draco said, knowing he was probably being overly cautious in assuming the more innocent implication of that particular sentence. 'I'm literally just here to check if you're wearing Pansy's underthings.' He heard his own voice, shrill and slightly too fast. He cringed. Stuck in his home with every living Death Eater was apparently fine but give him a dark room with a nice-looking boy and his voice betrayed him instantly.

'Well, then,' Potter said, pulling his flies a little wider, 'check then and we can go. If it takes any longer they're going to assume you're checking something else.'

'Like what?' Draco snapped before he realised what Harry meant, and he felt his face heat at the same time as another, far quicker, part of his brain thought of a thousand things he could check that all involved Potter being naked and some of which were probably illegal.

'Malfoy,' Harry let go of one side of his trousers to bury his face in his hand. 'Could you please just look at my underwear?'

'I can't,' Draco flicked his gaze down for half a second before the snakes in his belly made a sharp turn South and the flush of heat blossomed lower as well. He'd be pink all over at this rate. Or maybe he'd just burst into flames and not have to suffer through this anymore. 'It's dark.'

'Are you a fucking wizard or not?' Harry snapped, and flicked his hand out, wordlessly producing a glowing ball of soft pink light. Wordlessly and  _ wandlessly _ . Draco felt his gut twitch in envy and… definitely something else twitched. Further down. 'Could you look at my pants please?'

 

Merlin, he wished he could. Future Draco was going to be livid. He needed to stall. 'You seem very eager, Potter,' he drawled, trying desperately to regain a sense of self-control from his old patterns of behaviour. He'd heard rumours about Harry's magic, about the wandless thing. He didn't do it while anyone was watching though, or at least not when Draco was watching, which was often. The  _ wordless _ wandless thing was new though. There'd been no rumours about that. But it was only a glorified Lumos, wasn't it? Not a big deal. His dick was getting excited over nothing. He was acting like a pubescent boy. Deplorable.

 

'I'm not interesting in wasting any more time in here,' Potter sighed. Now that Draco could see his eyes, and the fierce set of his jaw, he couldn't really blame himself for being a touch flustered. Potter was, unfortunately, attractive. And that always sparked something in Draco, be it a flash of inconvenient lust or the irritable feeling of unfairness. In soft lighting though, surrounded by the scent of leather and earth and whiskey, it was far worse. No one should be able to save the world and be that symmetrical. Draco bet his cock was pretty too, even tightly bound in lace. Maybe  _ especially _ bound in lace. Circe's fucking tits.

 

'It's a game, Potter, did you have something more important to be doing?'

'I'd hoped for something vaguely more enjoyable than having my dick purposely  _ not _ looked at. It's kind of insulting, actually, considering,' Harry was scowling, now, and honestly, almost hotter for it. More brooding. 'You had one job, Malfoy. I mean, worst case scenario I imagined you'd just take the piss because I was wearing women's underwear, but this is just poor sportsmanship.'

'It's not a  _ sport _ , Potter. Like you said, it's a game,' Draco tried to smirk. 'Why would you expect me to play fair?'

'Because I get the impression you don't really want to be stuck in a tiny room with me?' he said. 'And if you'd just hurry the fuck up we could go back to the party.'

'I don't know...' Draco pulled out an old trick and gazed nonchalantly at his fingernails. 'I do seem to be getting you all wound up without even trying.'

'Nothing. New. There.'

'Then maybe you just need to learn to relax?'

'Yeah. Sure,' Harry deadpanned. 'Got any suggestions for how to be  _ calmly _ shut in a small dark room with your former nemesis and your pants down? Not to mention wearing the knickers of the girl who tried to get you  _ killed _ three and a half months ago.'

'Deep breathing?'

'Could you just  _ look _ , please?' Harry lowered his hand so the light was level with his crotch. 'Before Hermione comes in here and starts needlessly lecturing us on prophylactic charms?'

 

Draco couldn't help it in the end. The lace was red – too bright to ignore against the dark grey wool of Harry's trousers and the pale hint of skin beneath. His eyes were drawn to it without his permission. What he saw there was just as bad as he thought and the lurch of the snakes in his stomach and the dull throb of his loins stole any hope he had of a snarky quip or, in fact, denial of just how fucked he was.

 

Potter's balls were barely contained, the fabric stretched out so that it sat away from his body, holding them in place with elasticity and luck. He'd packed up so the head of his cock was pushing against the frilly waistband, the length curving under the small expanse of sheer lace just to be able to fit inside. Draco almost  _ died _ .

'Satisfied?' Potter sighed. 

'No,' Draco answered automatically. Honestly. Because truthfully,  _ no _ , he may never be satisfied again. And he was going to need a pensieve, because replaying this memory was going to happen. Maybe a lot. Maybe he  _ would _ die, languishing in his memories til he starved to death.

_ 'NO?' _ Harry squawked. He made a series of sounds, not quite words or even syllables, but his outrage clear in every one. 'Are you blind?'

Draco wondered if that was possible – blindness by bliss. He couldn't stop staring. The twin thrills of pretty, delicate fabric and of another man's cock right in front of him and on display were like a beacon. He felt himself hardening, the flighty rhythm of his heart making it difficult to think of a reasonable excuse for the fact that he was still staring at  _ Harry Potter's dick. _

 

'How do I know you're not just wearing them over your normal pants?' Draco tried to sound genuinely suspicious, petrified he would just sound like he was just desperate for Potter to never, ever pull his trousers back up. He was pretty sure he fucked it up.

'Uh, because my normal pants aren't beige and don't have a picture of a cock and balls printed on the front?'

'I'm not convinced.'

'You're not...' Harry's jaw dropped open, disbelief written on his face for a second before being usurped by what could only be the deadly determination that brought down a fully grown mountain troll, several incarnations of Voldemort and a fucking  _ dragon _ . He reached out then, flicked the ball of light into the air above their heads and grabbed Draco by the wrist. He pulled his hand forward, twisting it and pressing it flush against his crotch, holding it there with his own hand.  _ 'Does it feel like I'm wearing boxers underneath?' _

'For fuck's sake, Potter,' Draco said, trying, a little, to pull his hand back.

'Are you convinced yet?'

'Could you maybe–'

'Could I what? Do you want me to take them off and prove there's nothing underneath them?'

Harry let go of the other side of his trousers and they fell to his knees, and Draco was suddenly locked in a room with a half-naked guy's lace-clad package in his hand. And then Harry pulled at the frilly waistband til it wasn't there anymore and his cock was touching Draco's palm and it was warm and smooth and really, honestly, not remotely what he could call flaccid. It wasn't hard, exactly, but it was thick and heavy-feeling, and Draco reckoned with a few deft strokes, he could  _ make him _ hard.

'I was actually just going to ask if you could let go of my hand,' he said.

'Of course,' Harry spat. 'How terribly common of me, sorry to have offended you, Sir–'

'You didn't offend me.'

'–You did kind of ask for it though.'

'I'm  _ not _ offended, Potter.'

'Of course–'

'Not. Offended.' Draco grabbed Harry's free hand and clamped it against the front of his tented trousers, hoping his own erection would prove the point he wasn't going to be able to voice. 'It just wasn't a comfortable position for my wrist.'

The seconds that followed felt like an entire hour of Divination class, time enough that Draco wondered how much more trouble he could possibly get himself in beyond sexually assaulting The Boy Who Lived. 

'Oh,' Harry's lips were parted as if waiting for something to fill them. 'Yeah. I– It's not comfortable, is it?' He released the pressure on Draco's hand, his fingertips still lingering, sliding up his wrist.

'It'd be better like this,' Draco said, and sweet Merlin's nutsack, he was really going to do it. He took a breath and wrapped his fingers around Potter's exposed cock, and it  _ was _ hard now, his breath hitching as Draco closed his fist around it and then his eyes were fluttering shut and he was just  _ gorgeous _ in this light, all supplicant and breathy and gentle.

 

Draco released Harry's hand from where he was holding it, prepared for that to be the last of his gratification for the night, but more than willing to continue with what was shaping up to be the most well-remembered handjob he’d give in the history of all time. Instead, he felt his button coming undone, and his fly unzipping and warm hands smoothing down the silk of his boxers, cupping hesitantly at his balls, all as he watched his own fist working up and down the cock in his hand, still partially contained in red lace.

 

_ 'Fucking hell,' _ Harry breathed as he fell forward to rest his forehead on Draco's shoulder, and just like that, they were almost embraced, committed to the task ahead. His hands found Draco's waistband at the hip and delved inside, sliding down over his arse and grabbing at him, a splayed hand on each cheek, teasing them apart just enough to make him gasp.

 

They weren't going to be able to do this standing in the middle of the room. Draco wrapped his free arm around Harry's back and grabbed him by the soft woollen fabric of his jumper, pulling at the same time he nudged forward with a knee. He managed to walk Harry back toward a blank stretch of wall, and pinned him there, legs entwined so that Draco's cock was pressed against Harry's nearly bare hip. The fine silk of his boxers let through every tiny bump of the lace panties, pulled low and bunching in just the right place to provide a little much-needed friction. Turned slightly like this he had easy access to Harry's cock, something to hump against and the soft touch of Harry's balls ghosting against his thigh.

 

'Granger's not really going to come in here is she?' he whispered, adding a twist to each pump and watching as Harry's eyes flew open for half a second before fluttering closed again. He felt one hand leave his buttock and a sound behind him that was hopefully a stronger lock on the door.

'If she tries to get through that, she deserves to see what she sees,' Potter gasped into the skin of his neck, sending a wave of tiny shivers off in all directions. This was going better than Draco had expected, and if he could sell the memory of this, he still wouldn't, despite the riches it might have brought him.

 

Harry's breath was hot on his throat, his cock thick and hard in his hand, and his body firm as Draco rutted against it, strong hands pulling him closer and closer. He lost himself for a time in their rhythm, beautiful and simple in its repetition, silk gliding over lace, the subtle scent of Potter mingling with leather, and the telltale musk of precum rising off them both.

 

There was only one thing that could’ve made it better, and maybe he was a sap for thinking it, but he didn't care. He lowered his chin, turning slightly toward the heat of Potter's mouth, and that's all it took. Harry's lips were on his, moving in time with Draco's hand, a synchronous massaging pressure, punctuated with swipes of his tongue along the fullness of Draco's lip. The confidence in it, the total lack of hesitation, threw him for a moment and he realised he couldn’t control both his mouth and his hips and his hand and there was no way he was letting go of Harry, or shying away from the single most affecting kiss of his life, so his own pleasure fell to the wayside as they lost themselves in another extended moment. It could’ve been seconds or minutes or an hour of freedom from thought and fear and their terribly meddlesome friends. Meddlesome, but maybe deserving of something, later. A biscuit, perhaps.

 

Harry must’ve noticed the absence at his hip because he squeezed Draco's arse, pulling them closer together. His patience was short-lived though, apparently, and through the haze of being thoroughly kissed and groped and having his hand full of gently thrusting cock, Draco felt himself being spun round and the pressure of Potter's grip on his arse was replaced by the rigid mass of a wall and suddenly there were hands back on him, fussing with his boxers, and teeth delicately squeezed at his lip and he couldn't even remember how to move his hand anymore, when it was batted away anyway. 

 

Harry whispered something against his lips and pulled Draco's cock free of his silk boxers. In the same moment it was trapped between a slick hand and the warm hardness of another cock. He recognised what was happening the second Harry thrust against him, hand loose enough that Draco felt the slide and bump and the soft scrape of lace. He opened his mouth to gasp and was taken over with a flash of tongue, lost again. 

 

It could only be seconds that followed, steady thrusts turned frenetic, fevered and desperate. Kisses that were mostly gasping in each other's breath, tiny sounds there was no words for, riding out every pulse of pleasure til they were clutched together, twitching and trembling, flushed with contentment.  

 

'Wow,' Potter whispered into the darkness, his ball of pink light long gone.

Draco was about to concur when something pounded on the wall.

_ 'Harry, are you okay?'  _ A muffled Granger asked. _ 'What happened to the door?' _

Draco lifted his head, and looked, and while the door was definitely still there, it didn't seem to be made of wood anymore.

'Potter, did you turn the door to stone?'

'Maybe,' he said, gingerly letting them both go and tucking himself away.

_ 'Stone?' _ Draco asked, knowing the level of skill required for wandless, wordless transfiguration of a large object you weren't looking at, while fucking into someone's hand. 'Really?'

'I didn't want anyone else coming...' he smirked, turning his hand over, the pun not lost in the combined puddle of their release.

'Except me?' Draco asked, eyebrow raised.

'Except you,' Harry said, performing what felt suspiciously like a wordless, wandless  _ Scourgify _ on both of them _.  _

'And now?' Draco said, expecting this was going to be it. A one-time thing. Played off as if it was nothing. He didn’t want it to be. He'd come quite a way from not being able to look at Potter's underpants in the last however-long, and honestly, the thought of going back to something mundane like fighting with him seemed like a terrible waste of potential orgasms. 

'Blasting curse?' Harry suggested.

'Your best friend's on the other side of the door,' Draco pointed out, tucking himself back into his freshly cleaned boxers and doing up his trousers.

'I was thinking, actually,' Harry said, watching him do it, 'that we'd go through the outside wall instead and up to the castle.' He lifted his gaze. 'Leave them all down here.'

'Oh?'

'Common room is empty,' Harry shrugged, looking down at his feet. 'Just saying.' 

'Are you sure?' Draco asked.

'Yeah,' Harry let out a breath, looked up again, holding his gaze this time. 'I'm sure.'

'Ok. Well then,' Draco raised an eyebrow. 'Probably time to put your trousers back on, Potter.'

 


End file.
